Songs Without Words
by memorysdaughter
Summary: A new glee club member forces Rachel to rethink everything she knew about being a star and gives Mr. Schuester a chance to open up.  All without saying a word.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This story takes place before Kurt joins the Warblers. Reviews are love!

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Songs Without Words

"Okay, folks, let's quiet down," Mr. Schuester said as he entered the choir room, holding a sheaf of music. "As you know, we're going to start working on this new number today – so show up on time this afternoon!"

"Oh, Mr. Shu, we're _tired,"_ Mercedes said from the back row.

"Don't give me that," Mr. Schuester said with a grin. "You guys just got back from spring break."

"And it was _rough_," Kurt said, pushing a pair of sunglasses up on his forehead.

"What'd you do for spring break, Mr. Shu?" Artie asked.

"Worked on this," Mr. Schuester said. "Now, come on, we've got to get started."

He handed out the music, and stood expectantly before the glee club as they looked over it.

"A song without words, Mr. Shu?" Rachel asked, looking up at him, obviously frightened that her ability to show off would be severely hampered by a song that had no words.

"Think of it as something new," Mr. Schuester suggested. "No words – just tones. We'll fill them with emotion, give them meaning. In time they will come to replace words. We may even find that we don't need words to create feelings and images. Start by focusing on the tones! _Know_ the tones! _Love_ the tones!"

"I don't want to say you wasted your time," Santana said, crossing her legs demurely, "but I think you wasted your time."

"Well, thankfully, it was spring break," Mr. Schuester said, "so it was mine to waste."

"Is there going to be a solo?" Rachel wanted to know.

"There might be," Mr. Schuester said. "Unfortunately I've got to run off to a staff meeting, so you'll just have to wait for this afternoon's rehearsal to find out. And I meant it when I said be on time – we have a new member coming in to meet all of you today."

"Somebody _new? _ Did they _audition?"_

"Don't worry about it," Mr. Schuester said to Rachel as the bell rang. "Just be on time!"

* * *

"He better not have gotten one of those girls from Our Lady of Heaven Catholic Prep," Rachel said to Kurt and Mercedes as they walked down the hall. "Those girls have been blessed by the _Pope_ – there's no way I'd ever get a solo again if one of them showed up!"

"Maybe it's that girl whose sister had a crush on Mr. Shu," Mercedes said.

"I thought they had to move to Newark," Kurt said.

"Oh, yeah, some sort of Mob thing."

"It was a shame, too," Kurt said. "I mean, Benny the Grape owned the fiercest fashion boutique Lima's ever seen."

"Do you think this new girl has Mr. Shu's ear?" Rachel demanded, stopping and whirling to face Mercedes and Kurt.

"Ew," Mercedes said.

"How do you know it's a girl?" Kurt wanted to know.

Rachel held up her sheaf of music. "Mr. Schuester always does his own arranging," she said, pointing to a name printed at the top of the first page. "This one says it was co-arranged by Skyler Howard."

"Skyler could be a boy's name," Mercedes said.

"It's just _not_," Rachel insisted. "I'm telling you, some new girl is going to come in here and knock Mr. Schuester's socks off him. Well, I'm not going to stand by and let it happen!"

She stomped off down the hall.

"Girl is nuts," Mercedes said, and rolled her eyes.

"It's always been my theory," Kurt agreed.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I am super flattered by everyone's reviews and favorites. Thanks so much! As always, reviews are love!

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Songs Without Words

Rachel hurried to the choir room after school. She wanted to be the first one there, to have it out with Mr. Schuester, to find out exactly what sort of a game he was playing. And, well, to prove that she was Glee Club's shining star, and there was no way in hell he was going to replace her.

Mr. Schuester sat in a chair on the stage, facing the door. He was nodding and smiling; Rachel wondered if he had truly gone crazy or if he was wearing one of those new-fangled Blue-Tooth earpieces.

She stopped abruptly, skidding into the room, when she realized that neither of those thoughts was the truth.

For there, in front of Mr. Schuester, sat the most beautiful girl Rachel had ever seen.

It didn't matter that she was propped up in a wheelchair, bigger than Artie's and looking a hundred times more complex – this girl was gorgeous.

"Hi, Rachel," Mr. Schuester said, getting up from his seat. "Come in."

"Uh, hi," Rachel managed to say.

She still didn't understand exactly what was going on. The girl in the chair was tiny, blond, elfin, with a long braid lying neatly over her right shoulder. A metal stand held up a computer screen in front of her. Tubes ran from an opening in her throat around to the back of the chair.

The girl turned her chair somehow – Rachel couldn't tell how – and her eyes lit up at the sight of the dark-haired newcomer.

"This is Skyler," Mr. Schuester said, filling in the awkward hole in the conversation. "She's our newest member. Skyler, this is Rachel."

There was another pause, during which the girl in the chair turned her head away from Rachel.

Rachel was immediately offended. "Mr. Schuester," she said in a low voice, "I really don't think…"

A computerized female voice interrupted her. "Hello Rachel! I am so pleased to meet you. I am sorry I can't look at you and talk at the same time, but my speech device requires that I look at it. My name is Skyler and I am new at William McKinley High School. My father and Mr. Schuester are friends."

"Oh," Rachel said. "I didn't…"

"My father teaches music at Grove University," Skyler went on, blinking and moving her eyes in a sync'ed motion to control her computer screen. "He helped me arrange the song without words for Mr. Schuester."

Rachel took a step towards the new girl, until she could see the computer screen. It was filled with an alphabetical set of letters, and a small box at the top. As Skyler moved her eyes, the box at the top held her words. When she had finished a statement, she selected a box marked "Talk" and the words were spoken aloud.

"Mr. Schuester told me quite a bit about your glee club," Skyler said. "He said you are his star."

Rachel momentarily softened. "He did?"

"He did," Skyler confirmed. "He said that you would be my knight in shining armor, to borrow a turn of phrase. I know I'm not much to look at…"

"Oh, no," Rachel interrupted. "You're… you're very pretty."

"… but I have a passion for music that I wanted to share with Mr. Schuester. I was hoping you would be my first glee club friend."

Rachel pulled a chair up in front of Skyler's wheelchair. "Oh. Oh, of course."

Little by little the glee club filtered in. Each member cast their own looks at Skyler, and at Rachel, who sat steadfastly by her new friend's side. At last the bell rang and Mr. Schuester stood up.

"Good afternoon, everybody," he said. "I would like to…"

Brittany's hand went up in the back row.

"Yes, Brittany?"

"Is that a doll?"

"Is what a doll?"

"That girl."

"Oh," Mr. Schuester said, embarrassed. "No, it's…"

"This is Skyler Howard," Rachel said, leaping from her seat. She smoothed her skirt awkwardly. "And she's our newest glee club member."

"You have got to be kidding me," Santana said.

"So she's not a doll?" Brittany asked.

"Not a doll," Mr. Schuester confirmed.

"And anybody who has a problem with her can take it up with me," Rachel said firmly.

Artie rolled forward and gently touched Skyler's hand. "I'm glad you're here," he said. "I'm Artie."

The rest of the group introduced themselves, some more grudgingly than others. Brittany stared the longest before coming forward, and then she bent, leaning forward to look Skyler in the eyes. Skyler quickly moved her eyes away to her computer screen and typed, "Boo!"

Brittany squealed and jumped away.

Skyler laughed.

"All right, guys, let's start with the tonal song," Mr. Schuester said. "Skyler, take a listen. This is our first run-through."

Skyler moved her head a fraction of an inch, which could have been a nod.

Mr. Schuester stepped off the risers and turned to Brad, who sat at the piano. "Our four pitches, if you please, _maestro_."

Brad obligingly played four notes with big spaces in between, giving the entire group their points to aim for. When he had finished, the room still seemed to resonate even as silence fell.

Mr. Schuester stepped in front of the group and raised his hands, and without being asked, the New Directions were on their feet – well, except for Artie and Skyler – and their mouths were open, big, long, fat, ringing tones resonating around the room.

Mr. Schuester conducted the first few measures but it soon became apparent that his direction was unnecessary. The song without words had a momentum of its own, like sledding down a hill, and it was quickly unstoppable.

The New Directions members turned to look at each other even as these fat rich tones were coming out of their mouths. They'd never heard anything quite like it – the beauty, the interlocking harmonies. There was definitely a message there, something sad and crazy and wild.

How could it be that they were managing to say so much without _saying_ a single word? Rachel wondered. She'd always thought it was the lyrics that gave her favorite divas power. But here she was, unable to say a word about girl power or star power or heartbreak, and somehow she was managing to express it all.

Skyler's eyes were bright as she tracked across the singers' faces. She scanned almost excitedly from Brittany to Mike to Kurt, down to Santana and Quinn and Artie, back up to Sam and Finn and Puck and Lauren, over to Mercedes and Tina, and then coming, finally, to rest on Rachel.

When the song was over Mr. Schuester clapped enthusiastically. "All right, guys! That was… that was something!"

"I don't get it," Finn said.

"What don't you get?" Mr. Schuester asked.

"How are we supposed to sing a song that doesn't have any words? Isn't that the whole point of singing? The words?"

"I felt like I was saying 'yum yum yum,'" Brittany said. "And now I want a Power Bar. And maybe some Reese's Pieces."

"Couldn't you feel it?" Rachel asked, tucking her hair behind her ears as she turned to face Finn. "All the… the power and beauty."

"I just felt lost," Finn admitted.

"Well, let's turn it over to our composer," Mr. Schuester suggested. "Skyler, what did you think?"

Skyler flicked her eyes over to her computer screen and eye-typed for a moment. "You've got the basic idea," her computer spoke at last, "but you've all got a long way to go."

"I still say this is stupid," Santana said, folding her arms.

Skyler met the girl's gaze and typed, "When you watch a movie, ever notice how sometimes the hottest, most intimate scenes are the ones where nobody says anything?"

Her question hung in the air for a few moments, as everyone thought of various movie scenes. At last Santana said, "So, what, we're supposed to seduce somebody with this song?"

"I don't know if I'd call it seduction," Skyler said, "but think of how much power you gain when you can affect someone's emotions without saying a single word."

"It's like theatricality," Tina spoke up.

"Perfect example," Mr. Schuester said. "It's all about projecting a subliminal message."

The bell rang before he could say anything else, and the New Directions members hurried out. When the crowd had cleared, Rachel and Mr. Schuester were the only ones standing before Skyler.

"I just wanted to tell you I think this is brilliant," Rachel said to Skyler, leaning forward to rest her hands gently on Skyler's wheelchair tray.

She looked at the tiny girl contorted into her wheelchair, everything motionless except for Skyler's bright eyes and the mechanical _chuff-whuff_ of air being puffed through tubes into Skyler's tracheotomy tube. "And I just wanted to tell you that even Christopher Reeve was on _Sesame Street_ after his accident. So if he can do it, you can certainly be in show business."

"I don't want to be in show business," Skyler typed with a small smile. "That's like the last thing I'd want. And remind me to tell you some time about how I feel about Christopher Reeve."

Rachel was clearly taken aback. Usually people were grateful for her advice or emotional support. "Um, well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

"I'll be here," Skyler typed. "And thank you for your kind introductions, Rachel, it really does mean a lot to me."

When Rachel had gone Skyler turned her chair to look up at Mr. Schuester. "She's something else, huh?" the teacher said.

Skyler gave him a bigger version of the smile she'd given Rachel. "Everybody's somebody, Mr. Schuester," she typed. "It's all about what they do with it."

With her right thumb she activated the switch that drove her chair, and without another typed word, she scooted out of the choir room, leaving Mr. Schuester with the open, ringing tones of the song without words still pulsing through his head.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Enjoy!

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Artie saw the new girl, propped in her wheelchair, staring through the open door to the dance studio, where the Ballet Club was having a rehearsal. He rolled up next to her and gently put a hand on Skyler's elbow. "Hi there," he said.

Skyler started a little, and then turned her chair to face Artie. "Hello," she typed.

"What are you doing?" Artie asked. He felt a little embarrassed about asking, but he also felt a certain kinship with Skyler that eased his mind; surely they had enough in common to overcome any sort of mental hurdle he'd set up.

She gave him a smile and looked towards her communication device. "I like to watch dancers," she typed. "They're poetry in motion."

"So… you weren't watching them because you're envious?" Artie asked, and flushed.

Skyler gave him an understanding smile. "Sometimes I watch them because I'm envious. But I've really come to terms with the fact that my body will never do those sorts of things, and I focus on what I can do."

Artie looked in at the Ballet Club members doing their _plie_s and _battements_, and turned back to Skyler. "Are you going to lunch?" he asked.

"I don't eat by mouth," Skyler typed, and for the first time Artie noticed a thin little tube that ran up out of the collar of her lavender shirt and over her shoulder, disappearing over the back of her wheelchair. He could see little bubbles going down the tube, down towards her stomach. "But I would be pleased to accompany you to the lunch room to continue this conversation."

She put her wheelchair into motion, and Artie gripped his push-rims, and the two of them rolled down the hall.

In the cafeteria Artie scouted about for an open table, and led the way. He pushed chairs out of the way to make room for two wheelchairs, and turned to Skyler. "I'm going to get in the lunch line," he said. "I'll be right back."

"Sure thing," Skyler typed.

She had been sitting alone for a little while when Brittany came up, carrying her lunch tray. "I still think you're a doll," the cheerleader said. "But I like dolls."

Brittany chose a chair next to Skyler's and sat down. She opened her milk carton and stuck a straw into it. "I think you're a pretty doll," Brittany said. "Some dolls aren't so pretty. Like that doll in that movie."

Although that had to be the vaguest conversation starter Skyler had ever heard, she ran with it. "I think you mean Chucky," she typed. "And if you think I'm nicer than Chucky, I'm not sure if that's a compliment."

"Well, do you murder people with knives?" Brittany asked, innocently taking a drink of milk.

"Not lately," Skyler typed.

Brittany looked over at her in horror.

Skyler gave her a grin, and typed, "Just kidding."

Artie returned with his lunch tray, and Mercedes and Tina were following him. "I told them they could sit with us," Artie said, putting his tray on the table.

"We had a rough trig class," Tina said, sitting down and slinging her bag to the floor.

"Ms. Ellison just got dumped again," Mercedes added. "I swear, when her life is terrible, so is ours."

"We should just fix her up with someone nice," Artie said. "There's this guy who works with my dad who's single."

"Oh, are you talking about Brett?" Tina asked, sounding a little skeptical.

"What's wrong with Brett?" Artie asked, spearing some green beans with his plastic fork.

"He plays the accordion and he lives with his mother," Tina said.

"So – he's musically talented and he's frequently available for dates," Artie said.

Mercedes laughed. "You've got a good way of looking at things, Artie."

"Brett's a cute guy," Artie said. "And still single."

"Oh, yeah, who's going to let that perfect specimen of manliness get away?" Tina asked.

"Give me his number," Mercedes said. "I'll see if we can't hook him up with Ms. Ellison. She seems like the type who'd go for a musician."

"Just leave out the part about the accordion," Artie said. "For now. Until they get to know each other."

"I don't know what an accordion is," Brittany said, looking down the little spout into her milk carton.

"_Mama's got a squeezebox, she wears on her chest_" blared out of Skyler's computer.

Artie laughed into his green beans. "Exactly," he said.

"Classic Who," Tina agreed.

"Who?" Brittany wanted to know.

* * *

Rachel stormed into the teachers' break room and stomped over to where Mr. Schuester sat eating his peanut butter sandwich and reading a dated issue of _People_. "Mr. Schuester, we need to talk."

"Rachel," Mr. Schuester said, a little surprised. "What are you doing in here?"

"I realize that as an educator you need a place to relax and eat your… somewhat healthy looking lunch," Rachel said, "but I think that your duty as an educator must obviously outweigh your stomach's paltry desires."

"Is there something I can help you with?" Mr. Schuester asked, closing the magazine.

"Skyler," Rachel said, pulling out a chair across from him and sitting down.

Mr. Schuester sighed and squared his shoulders. "I thought you were okay with Skyler's presence in the glee club," he said, bracing for the inevitable attack.

"Oh, I am," Rachel said.

"Then can I get back to eating my sandwich?"

"Mr. Schuester, correct me if I'm wrong, but you're desperate for glee club members. And while I realize that the presence of more bodies is appealing…"

"Rachel, I don't mean to be rude, but could you get to the point so that I could finish my sandwich?" Mr. Schuester said pointedly.

"Do you _know_ who her mother is? Or her sister?" Rachel asked.

"Skyler's mother is a nurse. You might see her here occasionally," Mr. Schuester said. "She'll be here to help Skyler with her machinery. And as far as I know, her sister's a student at Langford High."

"Her sister, Mr. Schuester, is _Elizabeth_ Howard."

"Usually Skyler refers to her as Liz," Mr. Schuester said, still mystified.

"Mr. Shu! Elizabeth Howard is the captain of the Langford Lovelies – the best all-female glee club in Ohio. And her mother is their coach! Well, along with Rand Philippe, who is a total other story."

"Rachel," Mr. Schuester said.

"Do you think it's just a coincidence that Skyler showed up here? This song that she's getting us to sing – this random, no-words song with no potential for placement at sectionals – it's obviously a ploy to push the Langford Lovelies up into first place! Skyler's obviously come here from Langford to throw us off balance!"

"Rachel," Mr. Schuester said, "Skyler Howard is here because she wanted to be here. The fact that her sister is Liz Howard has nothing to do with it."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because up until two weeks ago, Skyler was homeschooled," Mr. Schuester said.

That threw Rachel for a moment. "What? Why would anyone _choose_ to be here?"

"Professor Howard must have said some nice things about New Directions," Mr. Schuester said. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"A little," Rachel said, still trying to figure out all of the complexities of this problem.

The bell rang, signaling the end of Mr. Schuester's lunch period – and Rachel's – and the teacher stood up, crumpling his sandwich wrapper. "Get used to it, Rachel," he said. "Sometimes people see the best in us when we don't think it exists."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Enjoy this chapter! Reviews are love. :)

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Songs Without Words

"Mr. Schuester," Mike said as the teacher entered the room, looking over some notes, "we've been talking, and we think if we're going to do this song without words, then we should do a song to counter it. Something with a lot of words."

"Sounds plausible," Mr. Schuester said. "Anybody got any ideas?"

"Well, our first choice was 'It's the End of the World as We Know It,'" Mercedes said.

"Until we realized that none of us have any idea what that song's about," Kurt said.

"And _then_ we thought of that Billy Joel song, the one about all the history," Finn said.

"But then _I _remembered that one of the judges for sectionals is Brett Langford," Rachel said, "who got in a fight with Billy Joel when he was in Dublin two years ago, and _hates_ when anybody sings a Billy Joel song. I think it's prejudiced and against the rules, but they haven't been able to stop him yet, and…"

"So what did you decide on?" Mr. Schuester asked, cutting Rachel off.

"A medley of TV show theme songs," Tina said promptly.

Mr. Schuester put his notes on the piano. "Wow."

"Is that a good wow or a bad wow?" Kurt asked.

"It's… a contemplative wow," Mr. Schuester said. "I've never considered TV show theme songs as a possibility. Way to think outside the box, guys!"

"Most of the shows I don't watch don't have theme songs," Brittany said. "Like Harry Potter."

"That's a book. Or a movie," Santana said.

"And I don't know the words to any of its songs," Brittany said.

"We'd have to make a pretty long medley," Mr. Schuester said, moving to the white board. "And we'd have to have a wide variety of shows. Dramas, comedies…"

"Maybe we should do that Charlie Sheen show," Puck said. "He's getting a lot of press lately."

"Do we really want to be associated with Charlie Sheen?" Mr. Schuester asked. "I'm not sure his values are in tune with ours."

"Except for one of his favorites," Puck countered.

The glee club members turned to look at him, confused.

"Um_, winning_!" Puck said.

* * *

After the glee club was dismissed, Skyler rolled up to Mr. Schuester. "My father wants to know if you'll come for dinner tonight," she typed.

"I'd be honored," Mr. Schuester said.

"Great," Skyler typed, and smiled.

"Rachel was asking some questions about you today," Mr. Schuester said as he turned to wipe off the white-board.

"Oh?" Skyler typed, and raised her eyebrows.

"She was questioning your loyalty. Guess she found out who your sister is."

Skyler rolled her eyes.

"That was pretty much my reaction too. I set her straight, don't you worry."

"The Langford Lovelies don't need me to help them win," Skyler typed. "They've got enough help already in the form of Rand Philippe. Please imagine me doing jazz hands as I type that."

She flexed her little pale hands at the wrists, bringing them up as far as she could off her wheelchair arm-rests, and laughed over her ventilator.

"From what I hear Rand's a pretty good coach," Mr. Schuester said.

"He's not the kind of coach you are," Skyler typed.

"Are you just telling me that to make me feel better about myself?"

"That depends. Is it working?"

"You are a born peacemaker, Skyler Howard."

"Rand Philippe doesn't need anyone to boost his ego. He does it well enough by himself." Skyler gave Mr. Schuester a "so-there" look.

"Did someone mention Rand Philippe?" Rachel asked.

Mr. Schuester jumped – he hadn't seen her standing there. "Um, hi, Rachel."

"Because Rand Philippe is a seriously talented coach," the dark-haired girl went on. "We're going to have to be super-good to beat him at sectionals."

"Rand Philippe is a self-serving egomaniac with a Napoleon complex and a love of show-tunes," Skyler typed, keeping a straight face.

Rachel looked aghast, as though someone had killed a kitten in front of her.

"He's just a jerk," Skyler typed. "And he smells really weird."

"You've been close enough to… smell him?" Rachel asked. It was like getting an audience with the Pope.

"He's at our house all the time," Skyler typed. "Ever since he broke up with his latest boy-toy, anyway."

"He… comes to your _house?_ Oh, I would just _die!"_

"Why don't you come to dinner?" Skyler typed.

"Really?" Rachel squeaked.

"Sure," Skyler typed, and shrugged a little. "My mother will be thrilled I have a friend."

"Oh! Well, then. Okay."

Skyler gave Rachel a smile, and then rolled her wheelchair forward. "Speaking of my mother, I should probably find her. Rachel, can we give you a ride?"

"Um, yeah," Rachel said. "I wanted to talk to Mr. Schuester about something, but it can wait."

"I'll see you at the Howards', Rachel," Mr. Schuester said.

"Oh! Well, then, all right," Rachel said.

Skyler gave Mr. Schuester a knowing look before heading out of the room, Rachel on her heels.

In the hallway, a tall woman with curly red hair was looking into classrooms. She had an overstuffed backpack over one shoulder and carried a music stand in the other hand.

"Hi, Mom," Skyler typed.

"Skyler! There you are!"

"Sorry, I had to go invite Mr. Schuester to dinner," Skyler typed. "Mom, this is Rachel Berry. A friend from glee club."

"Pleased to meet you," Mrs. Howard said, holding out a slim, manicured hand.

Rachel shook it. "Are you stealing that music stand?" she asked, and then blushed fiercely.

"No, I'm not," Mrs. Howard said with an understanding smile. "This is Skyler's. We use it to hold up her textbooks."

"Oh! I didn't mean that you would… I mean, _steal_…"

"It's quite all right," Mrs. Howard said.

"Mom, I told Rachel we could give her a ride," Skyler typed. "And I invited her to dinner."

"Excellent," Mrs. Howard said. "It'll be nice to have company for a change."

In the parking lot Mrs. Howard led the way to a large, battered blue van, and unlocked it with a small remote. She opened the back doors and put the music stand and the backpack in the cargo area, then opened the side doors and used a little control box to bring down a wheelchair lift. Skyler rolled onto the lift and Mrs. Howard raised her into the van.

"Rachel, please feel free to sit in the passenger seat," Mrs. Howard said as she climbed into the van to lock Skyler's wheelchair in place. "I believe the kids call it 'shotgun.'"

Skyler rolled her eyes. "Mom, you are so totally hopeless."

"Well, I'll just remember that the next time you need my help with something," Mrs. Howard said, standing upright. "Sorry, Sky, can't help you – Mommy's hopeless."

The ride to the Howards' home was quick. Mrs. Howard made small talk with Rachel, asking her about the glee club and William McKinley's other attributes.

Inside, the Howards' house was comfortably cluttered, and the sounds of a classical concerto filled the air. "Sky, go find Daddy and ask him if he has any ideas for dinner," Mrs. Howard said, putting one of her bags on the kitchen table. "Liz!" she hollered up the stairs.

Skyler rolled out of the kitchen, and, unsure of what to do, Rachel followed along behind. Skyler drove into a small room filled with books. A gray-haired man in a brown vest stood facing the windows, his hands in the air, conducting along with the music.

"Dad," Skyler typed.

The man didn't seem to hear her computer – the music was too loud.

Skyler rolled her eyes at Rachel and cranked up the volume. "DAD," the computer bellowed.

Mr. Howard jerked around, dropping his baton on the ground. He reached over to the CD player and smashed the "pause" button. "Sky! And… friend of Sky! You startled me in the middle of my Bartok!"

"Sorry, Dad," Skyler typed, having lowered the volume. "Mom wanted to know what we're having for dinner."

"I thought we'd have stir-fry," Mr. Howard said. "It's William's favorite."

"I will let her know," Skyler said. "Dad, this is Rachel Berry. From school."

"Pleased to meet you, Professor Howard," Rachel said, and they shook hands.

"Please, call me Dave," the professor said. "All my closest friends do."

"Oh, well, thank you," Rachel said, blushing.

"Now, my dears, I must return to my Bartok," Dave said. "I need to finish preparing this final movement before rehearsal tomorrow."

"Sure thing, Dad," Skyler typed.

"Nice to meet you," Rachel said.

The professor waited until the girls were back in the hallway before restarting the music.

"He seemed… nice," Rachel said to Skyler.

"He's a nut," Skyler typed. "In the nicest possible way, of course."

In the kitchen, Mrs. Howard was running water in the sink. A girl with black hair, dressed in a short black skirt and a black top studded with sequins, sat at the table. "Who's Sally Schoolgirl?"

"Lizzy, be nice," Skyler typed. "This is Rachel Berry. From school."

"You must be Elizabeth Howard," Rachel said, stepping forward to offer her hand.

The girl looked at Rachel's hand as though it was a small dead animal. "Um, yeah."

"Most people call her Liz," Skyler typed.

"What did your father want for dinner?" Mrs. Howard asked.

"Stir-fry," Skyler typed, turning her chair to look at her mother.

"Of course," Mrs. Howard said. "Liz, will you chop some vegetables?"

"I know where I've heard your name before," Liz said, snapping her fingers. "Aren't you that girl who sings all the Streisand songs at competition?"

"Well, I do like Streisand," Rachel said a bit nervously. "She's one of the consummate divas."

Liz snorted. "If you like eating horseshit."

"Elizabeth," Mrs. Howard said.

"I just think the whole Jewish princess-Barbra Streisand thing is a little over-played," Liz said.

"Oh, and Katy Perry is suddenly hip and new?" Skyler typed.

"Don't you say anything bad about Katy Perry," Liz said, pointing at Skyler.

"She's a ho," Skyler typed.

"Sky!" Mrs. Howard said. "If you girls can't be civil, at least go in separate rooms."

"Gladly," Liz said, and moved towards the stairs.

"_Not_ you," Mrs. Howard said. "Vegetables, please."

Skyler gave her sister a smirk and rolled out of the kitchen. When she and Rachel were in the living room, she typed, "Sometimes I like to get a rise out of Liz. I don't really hate Katy Perry, although there are several other artists I'd rather listen to. Okay, there are a lot of other artists I'd rather listen to."

"Is your sister always that mean?" Rachel asked, looking nervously towards the kitchen.

"No," Skyler typed.

"Oh, good."

"Sometimes she's meaner," Skyler typed. "Which is why we have to beat the pants off her and the rest of the Lovelies at sectionals."

Rachel looked at the tiny girl, taken a little aback. At last she smiled slowly, and said, "I think I'm glad you're on _my_ side, Skyler."

"Then I think that makes two of us," Skyler typed.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I spent the summer working at a camp for kids with disabilities, and I had a blast... but I was gone the entire summer and had very little time to write... and what I did have I spent working on my "Victorious" story.

Thanks to all my reviewers, readers, and followers! Enjoy! :)

* * *

Dinner was an exciting affair. The Howard parents sat at each end of the table, talking loudly about a hundred and one topics, constantly asking Mr. Schuester if he'd like more stir-fry, or pouring more lemonade for Rachel. Liz inserted herself into the conversation in between several conversations she seemed to be having via text message.

The meal was almost finished when the front door banged open. From the hall came an effeminate voice, filled with anger. "You would not _believe_ what they're doing to our sets at the theater!"

Rachel looked up in surprise. "Is that…?" she asked, hardly daring to believe that her one of her idols, Rand Philippe, was within earshot.

"Rand, get in here," Mrs. Howard said. "You've almost missed dinner."

At that, a short, dark-haired man entered the dining room, looking upset. He wore dark purple trousers and a black button-down, with a green scarf tossed about his shoulders. "I couldn't possibly eat, Susan," he said, obviously put-out. "I'm too upset."

"Rand," Mrs. Howard said. "You know you need to keep your energy up. We've got rehearsals all weekend."

"I couldn't _possibly_ eat," Rand Philippe repeated. "I'm weary just _thinking_ of it."

He flopped into the empty chair at the dining room table, which happened to be next to Rachel.

"Hello, Mr. Philippe," Rachel said a bit nervously.

"Oh, hello, dear," he said, closing his eyes. "Elizabeth, I've got to say that you really should ease up on the schoolgirl look."

"Rand, you dumbass," Liz said mildly, "that's not me."

Rand sat up and opened his eyes. "Oh. My goodness. I'm sorry, Elizabeth."

"Any time," Liz said, a bit icily.

"I'm Rachel Berry, Mr. Philippe. I'm a huge fan."

"Rachel _Berry_," Rand said. "Hmm. Are you a Lovely, my dear?"

"Rand," Mrs. Howard said.

"I'm sorry, Susan dear. I just can't keep track of them all. Especially if they're in the chorus."

"You mean like how you confused Pamela Chang and Jamesha Morton?" Liz asked, spearing a piece of broccoli with her fork.

"They all look the same to me," Rand said, waving his hand dismissively.

"Despite the fact that one is Asian and one is black?"

"Liz," Mrs. Howard hissed across the table. "Not _now_."

"No, no, I'm from William McKinley," Rachel said.

"Oh," Rand said, with a look on his face that suggested he was considering slugs or something as equally disgusting. "Oh, you're one of the… _New Directions."_

"That's right," Rachel said.

"And I'm their coach," Mr. Schuester said from his side of the table.

Rand looked over, still distastefully frowning. "Ah, yes. William Schuester. I've heard about your… glee club."

"They've got a pretty good chance of beating the pants off the Lovelies," Skyler typed.

"Is that so?" Rand muttered.

"We're just honored to be competing," Rachel hurried to say.

"Yes, yes, Rand, Skyler composed a song for the New Directions," Dave Howard said, waving his fork in the air. "Really inspired. Some of her best work, I'd say."

"That's right… you _compose_," Rand said, speaking to Skyler in the most patronizing tone Rachel had ever heard.

She didn't like that – Skyler could obviously stand up for herself, but it was strange to hear such a dismissive tone coming from one of her idols. "It's brilliant," Rachel said.

"We're honored to have her with us," Mr. Schuester added.

Skyler gave Rachel a small smile.

"Well, I've got to run," Rand said, heaving himself out of the chair.

"You won't have dinner, Rand?" Mrs. Howard asked.

"No, no, I'm much too worked up to eat. I've got to call Esmeralda Hawkins. It seems she allowed her ham-fisted arts crew to change the colors on our set. If they were talented they'd be in the Lovelies," Rand said. He waved as he headed out of the room.

"He really needs to get laid," Liz said in the silence that was left in Rand's wake.

"Oh, Liz," Mrs. Howard said, but she smiled.

Liz and Mr. Howard cleared the table. Mrs. Howard said to Skyler, "Let's go get your treatment done." To her other guests, she said, "We'll be right back."

Rachel took a sip from her water glass and turned to look at Mr. Schuester. "Mr. Shu, I've been thinking."

Mr. Schuester leaned back in his chair. "Are you thinking you were wrong about Rand Philippe?"

"No," Rachel said.

"The guy's a jerk, Rachel," Mr. Schuester said.

"Well, yes, but many choreographers and directors are temperamental…"

"Temperamental, but not jerks. You saw how he treated Skyler."

"Mr. Shu, I'm not saying that it's right, but a lot of people are dismissive towards the handicapped. And you have to admit that at first look Skyler seems very obviously disabled. _Very_ obviously disabled. When I first met her…" Rachel's statement trailed off.

"Assume competence," Mr. Schuester said, reaching for his water glass.

"What?"

"When you meet someone, always assume competence, whether they're disabled or not," Mr. Schuester replied.

Rachel took a second for this to sink in. "Is Skyler… will she… um… be onstage with us?"

"I hadn't thought much about it," Mr. Schuester said, setting his glass down. "Are you going to argue against having her up there with us?"

"No," Rachel said.

With that Mr. Schuester looked up.

"I want her there, Mr. Shu," Rachel said. "That song she composed… it's beautiful in ways that I can't even begin to explain. It makes me feel things that I can't understand, but which I know are beautiful and amazing. She's musical to a degree that most of us aren't. She's wickedly talented… and she's on _our_ side. We're lucky to have her and the audience deserves to know it was _her_ that helped propel us to first place."

The teacher smiled. "_That's_ the Rachel Berry I know," he said.

* * *

Skyler was the first one to the choir room the next day after school. She gave the empty room a small smile, considering the possibilities. Then, without much further thought, she pulled up iTunes on her computer and scrolled through the songs until she found what she was looking for.

She cranked the volume up as far as it would go, and hit "play." As the music spooled out of her speakers she activated the switch that drove her chair, and spun in wild circles with reckless abandon.

"_Don't be fancy, just get dancy / Why so serious…? / So raise your glass if you are wrong…"_

Skyler laughed over the music, over the noise of her ventilator, as she spun faster and faster.

From the doorway Mr. Schuester watched her.

She was, as Rachel had said, so very _obviously_ disabled. Skyler Howard was a girl who weighed less than the machinery keeping her alive, but at the same time she was a free spirit, wildly musical, and _happy_. It was the last that Will Schuester admired so much. To see someone so obviously tethered to worldly things, like a ventilator and a wheelchair, who was at the same time so free in her body, so free in the world around her, was almost an impossibility.

And yet, there was Skyler, spinning around the choir room to the tune of Pink's "Raise Your Glass."

When the song ended so did the spinning. For a moment Mr. Schuester thought he saw Skyler's eyes roll a bit, but then she focused and saw him in the doorway. She blushed, hurrying to pull up her speech program. "I must look like an idiot," she typed.

"No," Mr. Schuester said, coming in to set his briefcase and music on the piano. "You look happy."

"Well, isn't that funny?" Skyler typed with a wry smile. "Because I _am_ happy."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Enjoy! And remember - reviews are love!

* * *

"Okay, guys, warm-ups," Mr. Schuester said as Sam and Puck slid into the room seconds after the bell rang. "I know we don't do them often but scales and triads are going to be the bedrock of our performance on the song without words. Stand up, everybody – we're going to stop at the bottom!"

The glee club kids groaned, but got to their feet, stretching and laughing as Brad played a few starting pitches on the piano.

Mr. Schuester looked over at Skyler as the group went through the opening exercises – "_La-la-la-LA-la-la-la_…". She had positioned her chair next to Artie's in the front, just before the risers. There was a serious look he hadn't seen on her face in a while; she appeared to be focusing extremely hard on something just above his head. He resisted the urge to turn around and see what it was.

"La-la-la-LA-la-la-la," the glee club members warbled. Rachel was singing loudest of all. In the back row, Mike Chang was attempting to go unnoticed.

Mr. Schuester smiled – just another ordinary day.

When the kids finished their warm-ups, Mr. Schuester took his place at the front again. "All right, guys, let's take the song without words from the beginning. Skyler, any tips before we get started?"

Skyler looked startled, as though she hadn't expected him to call on her. Then a small smile appeared on her face, and she flicked her eyes towards her computer screen. "No. Please just proceed. I'm sure I'll have some notes after you finish," she typed.

"Sounds good. Our pitches, _maestro?"_

Brad – who for some reason looked actually _pleasant_ – gave the pitches. Following a second of silence, there was an intake of air and the kids were singing.

Mr. Schuester scanned the group. Finn looked confused, but that was nothing new. Mike Chang was trying a new technique – taking huge breaths before each note. Tina had the giggles, possibly from Mike's new singing technique. Lauren and Puck were sending each other eye messages that Mr. Schuester was sure were R-rated. Rachel's attention was focused on the middle of the piano; she sang lustily and happily. Artie was looking at Brittany. Brittany was looking at Sam. Sam was looking at Quinn. Quinn was looking at Finn. Santana was looking at Brittany. Kurt and Mercedes were hip-bumping in time to the song.

And Skyler had that distant look on her face again, as though she was somewhere else. She was usually so serious and focused that it was a bit off-putting. Compared to the Skyler of half an hour ago, the one who had spun around the choir room to the tune of Pink's "Raise Your Glass," she was drastically different.

Will Schuester had known the Howards for several years. He admired Dave Howard; in fact, he wanted to teach like Dave Howard. Dave inspired his students through music and was genuinely liked and respected by his students. Grove University musicians looked up to Dave – they sought his approval, and year after year, more of them were choosing music to fulfill various requirements. Some had stayed on with Dave for five or six years, continuing to take music classes even through grad school. One of Dave's most successful students was playing first chair in some orchestra in New York. It was a track record Will admired.

And Will liked the rest of the family. Susan was hard-working, dedicated to her many jobs, and a great cook. Liz had been a cute kid when Will was first introduced to the family, and though she had taken an unexpected detour into Goth Land, with an attitude to meet, Liz was still family-oriented, almost a straight-A student, and one of Langford High's most popular students – a soprano in the Langford Lovelies, she worked harder than anyone else in the show choir. Liz had gone from a background chorus role to a front-row singer and had taken on some of the choreography, at least before Rand Philippe had returned from California to shake things up.

And Skyler. At first Skyler had frightened Will. She was so obviously dependent. When Will had first met the Howards, Skyler had just returned from a three-month stay in a pediatric intensive care unit in Cleveland. As Susan told Will, Skyler had "coded" three times. Once, for seven minutes, she had been clinically _dead_.

It had changed Skyler. Or, at least, Will thought it had. He hadn't known the Howards very well before Skyler's long inpatient stay, but he had seen enough movies and read enough existential non-fiction to know that near-death experiences changed people. And though Skyler was now just sixteen years old, there was something in her eyes that was much, much older. Something wise. Something patient. Something talented.

Skyler was an improbability, that was what Will liked the most about her. She was supposed to be dead, at least four times over. Shortly after her birth, medical science had given her a year, at most. Thirteen years later, three times she'd coded in a hospital in Cleveland. In between, Will knew, Skyler had undergone hundreds of medical procedures designed to extend her life, including many, _many_ daily treatments that often involved her going without air for minutes at a time while her mother worked to clear her airway of mucus.

She was supposed to be dead, but she wasn't. Instead, she was sitting in a choir room in suburban Ohio; she was composing music that somehow made sense without any pesky lyrics to get in the way and bog things down.

All of a sudden Will realized the kids had stopped singing. Worse, they were looking at him.

"Mr. Shu?" Mercedes asked. "Is something wrong?"

"Nope, nope, that was awesome," Will said, giving the group a smile. "Just caught up in some reverie."

"How did it sound?" Tina asked.

"Truthfully, I liked the overall effect," Will said. "The chords are really starting to sound nice. Let's ask our _maestra_. Skyler, what'd you think?"

Skyler snapped back to the conversation, and Will knew that she, too, had been millions of miles away. Again, there was only a moment or two of silence, and then her eyes were moving, focused on the computer screen in front of her. A few moments later, the computer spoke: "It's good for a first effort. But it still needs a lot of work. There are some complex harmonies that I'm pretty sure you guys can hit. It'll just take some focus. Can we start at measure seven?"

Will pulled up the sheet music on the overhead projector, and circled the measure Skyler had indicated with a dry-erase marker. "See here, folks?" he said. "Skyler, are you referring to the men's chord?"

Skyler typed, "Yes."

"Okay. Finn, you have the lowest note," Will said. "Can you hit that?"

"It's pretty low," Finn said, looking nervous.

"You've got it, Finn," Rachel said. "Your range is amazing."

She beamed at him. Finn looked back at Mr. Schuester. "Umm… I guess so."

He sang a note. It was low, all right, but not the note written on the music.

"A little bit lower," Mr. Schuester said. "Brad, could you play it?"

The piano's note rang out in the room, and Finn did his best to hit it.

"Okay, great," Mr. Schuester said. "Now, Sam, you've got the next note up…"

Brad played that one without being asked, and Sam gave it his all.

"Now, Artie and Kurt!" Mr. Schuester said, waving his hands to encourage the singers.

Artie sang the note, looking over at the rest of the group a little warily. Kurt raised his hand. "Mr. Schuester, this chord is impossible. Even for a group of guys that has the range that we do. And it's a pretty impressive range."

"Just try it," Mr. Schuester coaxed.

"It's a diminished minor chord," Kurt went on, obviously not agreeing with his teacher's viewpoint. "It's a chord that lasts for a tenth of a second and, to be honest, I don't think it goes there. What's it supposed to represent?"

Mr. Schuester looked over at Skyler. The tiny girl looked a bit distant again, but within a second she focused on her computer screen. "Think of this song as a prayer," she typed. "It was based on a prayer, actually – something I heard at my cousin Eli's bar mitzvah."

"Oh!" Rachel exclaimed. "Suddenly it all makes sense!"

"Easy there, Barbra," Santana said. "Could you maybe translate for those of us not blessed with Hebraic heritage?"

Skyler's lips twitched into her version of a smile. "It's about being grateful. It's praise. It's saying…" and here she paused, searching for the right phrase, "… it's saying, I am so grateful that I woke up this morning. I am so grateful to be here right now. Thank you for this day. Thank you for this life, because it is a life worth living."

More than a few faces turned towards Skyler.

"What?" she typed, looking slightly more amused.

Santana, of course, had no problem telling Skyler exactly what everyone was thinking. "Why'd you write a song about being grateful to be alive?"

Mr. Schuester stood up, still holding the dry-erase marker. He was ready to leap to Skyler's defense.

But she didn't need it. "You think that people like me don't want to be alive?"

"I'm just saying…" Santana started.

"We want to be alive," Artie said.

"Artie, it's not the same thing," Santana said. "You've just got legs that don't work… I mean, she's got…"

"I wasn't always like this," Artie offered, a bit shyly.

"And I wasn't always like this," Skyler typed. "Strange as it may sound, I was born completely normal. I wasn't born attached to machines. Strange as it may sound, I sat. I ate by mouth. I breathed on my own. And I talked."

Santana looked a bit ashamed at this, but not enough. Mr. Schuester said, "Santana… life is about being who you are despite the odds. I think glee club's taught us that."

"And so my odds are bigger than yours," Skyler typed. "Who gives a damn? I'm still alive, and that's what matters. So I breathe different, so I walk different, so I talk different, so I eat different. I might not be a cheerleader but I'm a kickass composer and a musician and a Harry Potter freak. There's so much more to me than my body, and if you have a problem with that, get a therapist, because we don't have enough time to sort out your issues before we need to kick the pants off the Langford Lovelies at sectionals."

Santana's mouth dropped open.

"She already has a therapist," Brittany pointed out.

"Well said, Skyler," Mr. Schuester said quietly.

"You can all stick up for her," Santana said, recovering, "but it still doesn't excuse the fact that she's in _glee club_ and she can't even _talk_."

"Artie's in here and he can't dance," Rachel said.

"And so's Finn," Mike Chang offered.

"Brittany can't do math," Kurt said.

"It's true," Brittany said, nodding.

"Rachel can't quit being annoying," Mercedes added.

"Sam's got huge lips," Puck said.

"None of us can do everything," Mr. Schuester said. "But each of us can do _something_."

Santana started to speak, but Mr. Schuester cut her off. "That's our assignment for today, guys."

He crossed to the white board and wrote a phrase there: "Team Player."

"I want you each to come up with a song that expresses what _you_ do for this group," Mr. Schuester said. "Present it this week. Give it some thought – there are lots of different choices."

The bell rang, and, grabbing up their books and backpacks, the kids rushed out of the room. Will thought Skyler would stay behind to say something to him, but she left as quickly as everyone else, leaving her song from only an hour before ringing in his head:

"_So raise your glass if you are wrong / in all the right ways / all my underdogs…"_

They _were_ his underdogs, and all he wanted was a chance to show them that there were so many different ways to fit in, to be team players. With only a few weeks left until sectionals, he couldn't bear to have the kids at each other's throats.

The warning bell rang and Mr. Schuester grabbed his Spanish textbooks and high-tailed it, late for his own _fiesta_.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**: Thank you for your patience! I was feeling very uninspired, but I'm getting a few more ideas now!

Please enjoy! And I love reviews!

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Rachel was the first one to come up with her song, just three days after Mr. Schuester had given his assignment.

Mr. Schuester looked out over his club, thinking of each member fondly. Skyler was at the far end of the room, her mother seated behind her. Skyler's eyes were focused on Rachel; though the pixie of a girl had been a constant fixture, a cold was wearing on her defenses. Susan Howard had been accompanying Skyler to more of her classes, spending a large amount of class time sucking out the trach tube that kept Skyler breathing, plus Skyler's mouth and nose. The whirring hum of the suction machine had become a backbeat for class.

"I hope everyone loves Liz Phair as much as I do," Rachel said perkily, bobbing up and down on her saddle-shoed feet.

"How could that even be possible?" Kurt muttered rhetorically.

"I'm ready when you are," Rachel said to the back-up group.

Brad counted in the air with his fingers and the music started.

"_You think that I go home at night / take off my clothes, turn out the lights / but I burn letters that I write / to you, to make you love me_," Rachel sang. "_I am extraordinary / if you'd ever get to know me / I am extraordinary / I am just your everyday / average everyday sane psycho / super-goddess…"_

"Rachel thinks she's extraordinary," Santana said. "What else is new?"

"_You may not believe in me / but I believe in you / so I still take the trash out / does that make me too normal for you?"_ Rachel kept singing. "_See me jump through hoops for you / you stand there watching me performing / what exactly do you do? / have you ever thought it's you who's boring?"_

The song ended and Rachel beamed at the group.

Before she could say anything, Skyler choked, the ventilator alarmed, and Susan Howard got up to suction. There was a _whirr_ and a sucking noise, Skyler gagged, and then silence.

"That was great, Rachel," Mr. Schuester said, clapping his hands as though the medical-based intrusion had not occurred. "Gang, I think you're all pretty extraordinary."

"Thank you, Mr. Schuester," Rachel beamed, and headed back to her seat next to Finn.

Mr. Schuester stood up. "All right, folks, let's get back to work on the song without words. Oh, but before we start – remember, next Saturday is sectionals! We'll be leaving the parking lot at seven-thirty sharp. The costumes will be here after school, so come pick them up before you go home."

Kurt raised his hand. "Mr. Schuester, before we begin, I would like to present my song today as well."

"Great, Kurt," Mr. Schuester said. "What a class act – two songs ready this early!"

"We're not all perfect," Mercedes said.

"I haven't even picked a song yet," Santana said, rolling her eyes.

"Me neither. I have to figure out who I am first," Brittany said in a low voice.

Kurt headed for the front of the room, grabbing a top hat that had previously sat unnoticed on the piano. He slid it onto his head with the utmost in smooth gestures, and then took his place before the group.

The trumpets were the first to play, giving Kurt an introduction.

"… _Have you seen the well-to-do / up and down Park Avenue / on that famous thoroughfare / with their noses in the air?"_

Quick beats from the drum kit. The bass and piano picked out a jazzy accompaniment.

"_Now if you're blue / and you don't know where to go to / Why don't you go where fashion sits? / Kurt's puttin' on the Ritz…"_

The melody picked up, Kurt's words coming a bit off-beat in a way that was not unpleasant: "_Come, let's mix where Rockefellers / walk with sticks or umbrellas / in their mitts / puttin' on the Ritz…"_

The song ended with a muted trumpet chorus, and everyone clapped. Kurt doffed his top hat and bowed deeply.

"Just sensational, Kurt," Mr. Schuester said, still clapping. "You definitely put on the ritz in here."

"It's the sweater," Brittany said.

The suction machine snapped back on, and everyone jumped. Skyler rolled her eyes as the ventilator beeped a warning and her mother suctioned out her breathing tube.

"Sorry, sorry," Susan Howard whispered, hurriedly turning off the suction and resetting the ventilator alarm.

"All right, gang, let's start with our dance number," Mr. Schuester said. "Skyler, have you told your mother much about your sweet moves?"

Skyler smiled.

"I don't know if I want to see it yet," Susan said. "I was hoping for it all to be a surprise at the competition."

"It's up to you," Mr. Schuester said, "but either way we're going to rehearse."

He waved his hands to Brad and the assembled musicians. Immediately the band started tuning, getting their notes in sync as the glee club members took their places.

"This one was inspired by Skyler," Mr. Schuester said to Susan Howard.

He nodded to the band, and music began to fill the choir room. A slow smile crossed Susan's face as she recognized Skyler's favorite song – "Raise Your Glass."

Mr. Schuester had been worried about how to best showcase the abilities and strengths of all of his glee club members, Skyler included. It had been different with Artie – Artie was great about working on his dance moves, and he had a lot more movement in his wheelchair. Skyler's abilities were severely limited, but Mr. Schuester knew it was important for her to be onstage, doing whatever she could do.

So he'd tag-teamed Artie and Skyler. After watching a series of Broadway shows and musicals on DVD, Mr. Schuester had realized that the best thing about their choreography was often the symmetry. Simply put, dance moves looked better when performed by a symmetrical group. Usually this translated to a couple – the hot-stepping male lead and the feisty female lead – but when taken to another level, the chorus numbers looked best in symmetrical groups, generally even numbers of couples. And since Artie and Skyler were both on wheels, they would be a couple. So far, it had worked well. They stayed with each other, alternating sides of the room. And in the auditorium, they handled the ramps on the risers just fine.

As the music pounded through the choir room, the group kept on dancing and singing. Susan Howard watched with tears in her eyes.

Mr. Schuester walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at him. "It was never like this with Liz," she said, as the group sang. "With Liz, it was always assumed that she would fit right into a group, that she would be successful. Watching Liz, you're watching someone who knows exactly what she's doing, what she was born to do."

She shook her head.

"_What part of party don't you understand?"_

"Watching Skyler… it's like watching a butterfly come out of a cocoon. It's difficult and it's a struggle, but she knows where she's going, she knows what she's doing, and when she gets there, it's beautiful."

Susan clasped Mr. Schuester's hand. "Thank you for everything you've done for her. She talks about glee club endlessly – she's been spending far too much time with her father going over arrangements for new songs… you've given her hope."

Mr. Schuester squeezed her hand. The music flowed around them, and the sound of feet pounding on risers provided an organic backbeat. He leaned in to make sure he would be heard. "She's the one who gives _me_ hope, Susan."

And he smiled, and she smiled, and they both watched the singing and dancing swarm of teenagers with tears in their eyes.

* * *

After school the kids came hurrying back into the choir room. Mr. Schuester and Susan Howard were standing in between several racks of costumes. The club had voted on a rich, more formal look for sectionals, to accompany the gravitas of the song without words and to emphasize their dance moves in the other two numbers. For their next competition, Mr. Schuester had already thought of a more "fun" look, something lighter, perhaps in a pastel for the guys. His guys looked good in pastels; it was always good to play to your strengths.

But for sectionals the group would be wearing a sedate ensemble, starting with black pumps for the ladies and black lace-ups for the gentlemen. The guys would sport black pants, and black long-sleeved button-downs, accompanied by deep red vests and ties. Kurt had argued for bow ties, but Mr. Schuester – and Puck, Finn, Artie, and Sam – had overruled him.

"Neck ties will be just fine."

"Yeah, no need to make everyone think we're waiters," Puck muttered.

For the ladies, Mr. Schuester was trying something new. "Yes, we've usually stuck to knee-length dresses in a variety of colors," he said, having resolved the neck-tie debate, "but for this I'm thinking we'll go ankle-length."

So they had ordered the ankle-length dresses, a combination of a red that matched the men's costumes and black. The red overskirt was glittery and seemed to catch the light with movement, and a poufy series of tulle underskirts gave the dress shape and body. Two black straps held the dresses up over the ladies' shoulders, and a thin black corset created the waist of the dress.

"These are lovely," Susan said as she handed a dress and a pair of shoes to Brittany. "You'll certainly be the best-looking group up there."

"What about the Lovelies?" Rachel asked, peering over a clothing rack at Susan.

"Oh, the Lovelies have some very traditional costumes," Susan said. "Honestly, sometimes it gets a little boring. Heavy velvet in some sort of boring color… black or navy or dark green. Or a combination of satin and velvet. Sure, they look nice, but there's no pop."

"You'd think Rand Philippe would object," Rachel said.

"Rand? Rand doesn't care for fashion, my dear," Susan said, checking Brittany's name off a list. "Rand is a choreographer and a set designer, and that's as far as things go. He leaves costuming up to the girls, and the girls, for some odd reason, love tradition."

"They can pick anything they want?" Rachel was aghast. "But why doesn't he stop them?"

Susan laughed. "Rand is a wonderful man, Rachel, but he's a bit self-centered."

"He's a _lot_ self-centered," Skyler typed.

"Rand focuses on a few things, usually in this order – himself, his interests, and then, somewhere at the bottom, the Lovelies and choir competitions," Susan went on. "The Lovelies sing well and dance well, but they are hardly imaginative. And Rand's happy as long as they sing and dance well. He could care less about their costumes."

"For a gay man, he's very unfashionable," Skyler said. "He's not like Kurt."

Kurt, having heard his name, stuck his head around the costume rack. "What?"

"You dress well and you look good," Skyler typed.

"Well, thank you," Kurt said, straightening his bow tie.

"Here's your costume," Mr. Schuester said.

"I still think we should have gone with bow ties," Kurt said.

"And I still think there's time for bow ties at regionals," Mr. Schuester said, patting Kurt on the back. "But thanks for expressing your opinion."

"As long as they're not plaid," Kurt said. He shouldered his costume and headed out of the choir room with a quick salute.

The rest of the glee club members filed in and out, picking up their costumes, until only Susan, Skyler, Rachel, and Mr. Schuester remained. "Thanks for the help, Susan," Mr. Schuester said.

"Any time," Susan said, moving one of the clothing racks to the edge of the room. "Your kids will look great, Will."

"Mom," Skyler typed.

"Yeah, Sky?"

Skyler glanced back towards her computer, but choked and gagged, setting off the ventilator alarm. Susan hurried over to suction her trach tube.

"Was that what you wanted?" Susan asked once Skyler's airway was clear.

"No," Skyler typed. "I don't think my feet are going to fit in those shoes."

She moved her glance significantly to the pair of pumps in Rachel's hands.

"We got special shoes for you," Susan said, stroking her daughter's hair.

"Right here," Mr. Schuester agreed, holding up a pair of black ballet slippers.

"What happens if… if _that_ happens onstage?" Rachel asked.

"If I hold up a pair of ballet slippers?" Mr. Schuester asked.

"Um, no, although that would probably be a bit strange," Rachel said. "I mean, if she needs… _that_."

"Oh, suctioning?" Susan asked.

"I guess we didn't think about that," Mr. Schuester said, giving Susan a look.

"It's not like we can stop," Rachel said. "That would definitely cost us points."

"We do what we have to do, Rachel," Mr. Schuester said.

"We'll make sure we clean her out really well before we go to the competition," Susan said. "Coughing, the Vest, chest PT, two series of nebulizers – the whole shebang."

Rachel had no idea what that meant. "But you still can't…"

"Thanks for talking about me like I'm not here," Skyler typed.

"Sky, you know that I'll involve you in everything we do," Susan said. "But Rachel's never… dealt with someone with your types of needs. It's normal for her to be worried about what might happen."

"I love your song," Rachel said, turning towards Skyler. "And I love what you bring to the club. But I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

"And you definitely wouldn't want me to embarrass you in front of the judges," Skyler typed.

"That's not what I meant!"

Skyler rolled her eyes and sighed over her ventilator. "It's not what you meant, but it's what you expressed. Are you sure you want me onstage with you at all? I mean, they might think the New Directions is some sort of charity glee club, taking any and all rejects."

"Sky!" Susan said.

Skyler typed furiously. "I'm sorry, Mom, but for the first time in glee club I felt like I was just one of the group, like I wasn't some sort of special ed case who was just tolerated because my father knew somebody. And now I'm finding out that's not true? Well, maybe I'll just go join the Lovelies."

"You wouldn't," Rachel said.

Skyler paused, and the sound of the ventilator was the only noise in the room.

"Skyler, we don't want you to feel like you don't belong," Mr. Schuester said.

"How could I possibly feel like I belong?" Skyler typed. "Everyone seems to think that I'm not a real person, like what I feel doesn't matter at all. If you just want me for my song but you don't accept me as a person, then how can I feel good about sharing it with you?"

She engaged her wheelchair's drive function and rolled out of the room.

For a moment no one spoke.

Then Susan said, "She's just as feisty as Liz, when she gets passionate about something."

She picked up Skyler's dress and ballet slippers. "I'll talk to her," she said.

"I'm so sorry," Rachel said.

"Don't apologize," Susan said. "Skyler's just had a rough week. Being sick is hard on her. It makes her feel more alienated from other people – all the treatments and the medical stuff. And she just wants to fit in."

"I shouldn't have said anything," Rachel said. "It's none of my business if she needs help onstage. Or offstage."

Susan gave Rachel a smile. "You are a friend to Skyler, and deep down, she knows that."

She collected Skyler's backpack and music stand, and prepared to head out of the room. "Thanks, Will. We'll see you tomorrow."

When she had gone, Rachel turned to Mr. Schuester. "I messed up."

"The fact that you can admit that is very big of you, Rachel," Mr. Schuester said.

"Is the auditorium free?" Rachel asked.

"I think so," Mr. Schuester said, checking his watch. "The jazz band was going to be done by three-thirty."

"I'll be back to get my costume in a bit," Rachel said, and slipped out of the choir room.

* * *

The jazz band had vacated the auditorium, and Rachel crept down the darkened stairs on velvet feet. The grand piano sat in the spotlight, gleaming blackly against the polished hardwood of the stage.

She sat down on the piano bench and scooted it closer to the keys. For a moment her hands hovered over the keys, and the air seemed to hum with unnoticed vibrations.

Then the words came to her, and she began to sing. "_Fight hard on a night like this / look for a star and wish / you could get out of it…"_

The auditorium door opened quietly, and Mr. Schuester let Skyler roll into the back, near the soundboard. "She always comes here when she's feeling guilty," he whispered to the blond girl.

Skyler took her finger off the switch driving her chair, and she focused her attention on the brunette at the piano.

"_Bite down and then pray, pray, pray / you'll make it through this to sing and say / you hold life dear,"_ Rachel sang. "_Moments turn to hours that turn to years / and now I'm…"_

"_Far from here / and we are happy / far from here / we are all right / far from here, things are peaceful / far from here, we have insight / far from here / we've detangled / our strangled hold / and I hope to see you there."_

"She plays beautifully," Susan whispered to Skyler.

And it was a beautiful song, Skyler had to admit.

Rachel played on, ignorant of her small audience. "_Rise high / out of this whole scene / look down / and separate yourself / from your worst dream / then fly far / and stay, stay, stay / out of the way / until the coast is clear…"_

Her fingers danced over the keys, and she swayed and played and sang, her eyes closed.

When it was over, she paused for a moment with her fingers hovering over the keys, as if she couldn't decide whether or not to sing another verse.

In the silence Skyler focused her eyes on her communication device, and typed hurriedly. "Apology accepted" boomed out into the empty auditorium.

Rachel looked up. "What are you…?"

"Mr. Schuester convinced me to give you another chance," Skyler typed. "And I'm glad I did."

She smiled her tiny smile, and typed, "See you tomorrow."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Just a short-ish filler-ish chapter. Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! Enjoy!

* * *

The lift on the bus whirred and clanked upwards. Ready for the day in his ensemble of black pants, black shirt, and red vest and tie, Artie rested his hands on his push-rims. He looked down at Skyler, who sat in her chair in the parking lot, looking over at the sun rising over the Dumpsters.

"It'd be poetic if it was prettier," she typed, glancing up at Artie with a slight grin.

"The smell of Dumpsters in the morning," Artie said.

The lift clanked to a stop and Artie unlocked his chair's wheels and rolled backwards into the bus. Susan Howard was there, waiting to help him strap his chair into the bus.

Mr. Schuester brought the lift back down. "How are you feeling today, Skyler? Are we going to be winners?"

"A philosopher might suggest that we are already winners, Mr. Shu," Skyler typed.

"But not Skyler Howard?"

"I don't think I would ever make it as a philosopher," Skyler typed. "Instead I will suffice as the group's eternal optimist."

"And?"

"And those other groups might just want to watch out. Because if we can't beat them in song, Artie and I will just run them over with our chairs," Skyler typed, and smiled up at Mr. Schuester.

"Which is a much bigger threat than it seems," Susan Howard said, sticking her head out the handicapped access door. "A friend of mine took her son's power chair to her shin, and the wound got infected, and they had to amputate her leg."

"Really?" Mr. Schuester looked up in horror.

Skyler rolled her eyes as she positioned her chair on the lift. "Mom, you left out about six steps in that story. First of all, right after she got hit with the chair, she was in a car crash. And she broke her leg."

"I still maintain the power chair did it," Susan said.

Skyler rose into the air with the assistance of the groaning, clanking lift. Rachel approached from the far side of the parking lot, coming to stand next to Mr. Schuester. Skyler raised her hands up as far as they would go and gave Rachel a smile.

"Good morning," Rachel said, startling Mr. Schuester. He jumped and his thumb slipped off the lift control box. The lift jerked to a stop. Skyler jerked in her chair.

"Good morning, Rachel!" Mr. Schuester managed to get his thumb back onto the lift control. "Sorry, Skyler!"

"It's okay," Skyler typed.

"How are you this morning?" Rachel asked, going over to stand next to the lift as Skyler rose into the air.

"Ready to kick Rand Philippe's ass!" Skyler typed, eyes widening with excitement. "Figuratively, of course, although I would give pretty much anything to have the leg control and strength to kick him literally in the ass."

"Skyler!" Susan Howard said, leaning out of the open lift door.

Skyler rolled her eyes.

"I know what you mean," Rachel said, smiling. "I can't wait to get up there onstage and show them what we're made of."

"Better stuff than the Lovelies," Skyler typed.

The lift ground to a stop and Susan Howard backed Skyler's chair off the platform.

"Better get on the bus, Rachel," Mr. Schuester advised.

Loading finished quickly and in just a few minutes, the bus was pulling out of the parking lot. Mr. Schuester passed around juice boxes and doughnuts. "I'd just like to say," he said, standing in the aisle, "that I think we've got a really great chance at going all the way today at sectionals!"

"Hear, hear!" Kurt called, raising his juice box.

"I want you guys to remember that we bring something special to the table. Or, to be a little clearer, the stage," Mr. Schuester went on. "We've got singers, dancers, lyricists, poets – true _artists_… we've got so much diversity, and not just the politically-correct kind so celebrate in ad campaigns."

He raised his juice box a little higher. "Our group is… well, we're _blessed_, gang, because we've got something no other group has."

"Is it Kurt's bow tie advice?" Puck asked from the third row.

"That," Mr. Schuester said as the group laughed, "but what we've really got is each one of you."

"And me!" Brittany added.

The bus rolled over a pothole and Mr. Schuester nearly fell. "I guess I'd better sit down," he said, still smiling. "But just know that I'm _so_ proud of you guys, gang."

"We love you too, Mr. Shu!" Artie called from the back of the bus, raising his juice box.

* * *

"Oh, no, we're last!" Rachel cried as she looked over the scheduling sheet.

"Is that bad?" Susan Howard asked.

"That's good, Rachel," Kurt said. "That means we get to see what everyone else has to offer."

"It also means the judges are going to be _tired_ by the time they get to us!" Rachel protested.

"So we just have to be unforgettable," Finn said.

"And we're right after the Lovelies!" Rachel griped.

"They're not doing anything impressive," Skyler typed.

"Calm down, Rachel," Mr. Schuester said. "There was a mix-up with our registration information and I had to re-send it. That's probably why we're last."

"So we're an _add-on?"_ Rachel looked at him, horrified.

"Nothing we say is going to calm her down," Mercedes said, and rolled her eyes.

"No, we're not an add-on," Mr. Schuester said. "We're just last. Savor it, Rachel – it means we have all the more time to practice, so we can really wow them. Now, who's up first?"

"Um, Newtown High School," Mike Chang said, reading from the schedule. "With their James Taylor retrospective. Accompanied by the Newtown Chamber Orchestra."

"Let's get our seats," Mr. Schuester said. "Wouldn't want to miss an orchestral version of 'Mexico.'"

He strode off towards the women handing out programs at the auditorium doors. Most of the glee club followed after him.

"He is far too calm," Rachel said, the scheduling sheet shaking in her hand.

"It's going to be all right," Finn said.

"Yeah," Skyler typed. "Anything after a strings version of James Taylor is going to seem classy as hell."

"Sky," Susan said warningly.

"You have to admit it's true, Mrs. Howard," Finn said, and with that, they filed into the auditorium.

* * *

Onstage, forty students in ill-fitting silver-sequined vests lackadaisically sang "Fire and Rain."

"You were right," Susan Howard said, patting Finn on the knee. She sat on the aisle to be close to Skyler, but even at their great distance from the stage, the James Taylor retrospective came off as trite.

"Thank God we're last," Rachel said.

"What?" Santana whispered. "You were all crazy because we're last, but then…"

"I should have seen it as a great advantage," Rachel interrupted. "Obviously. The judges are going to be wowed by us."

"If they're not wowed by the Lovelies first," Tina said.

"Oh, please. The Lovelies are going to come out and do their madrigal-style nonsense, and then we'll get up there and…"

"And give them what?" Santana demanded. "TV theme songs, a song without words, and 'Raise Your Glass'?"

"Anything's got to be better than this," Finn said, pointing with his chin to the spangled James Taylor aficionados.

Santana rolled her eyes and settled back in her seat.

"Give a big round of applause to the Newtown High School Glee Club!" a deep voice boomed over the PA. "We'll give our judges five minutes to complete their grading sheets, and then we'll welcome…" – there was a short pause – "… the Chatham Consolidated High School Choristers!"

The lights came up. Skyler raised her hands off her arm rests and her eyebrows, and without any other cues, Susan leaned over and suctioned her.

"That's impressive that you know when to do that," Finn offered a bit sheepishly.

"We're a good team," Susan said, giving Skyler a smile.

"Like the Yankees," Skyler typed.

"I love the Yankees," Finn said.

"No, I was thinking more like your glee club," Susan said. "I mean, look at all of you."

Finn did as he was told, looking down the row at the other glee club members, all the way down to Artie, who sat in the other aisle. Artie, confused by Finn's long gaze, raised his hand and waved a little confusedly.

"You can stop looking," Susan said, when it became clear that Finn would not do so on his own. "I just meant, you all have your strengths and you all have your needs, and that's why it's such a pleasure to watch you kids perform."

"I thought it was the ties," Skyler typed.


End file.
